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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27293728">Black And White</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katzedecimal/pseuds/Katzedecimal'>Katzedecimal</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood, Crowley's pronouns are all over the place, Gen, Gift Fic, Mentions of other archangels</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:20:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>641</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27293728</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katzedecimal/pseuds/Katzedecimal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale finds a memento while tidying up.  It makes him think about how things have changed for him and his wily adversary.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Black And White</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeniG/gifts">PeniG</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27286129">Grace</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeniG/pseuds/PeniG">PeniG</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>PeniG keeps giving me ideas make her stahp!  (Don't actually stahp...) </p>
<p>Equally inspired by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/20773853"><i>Defining Frivolous</i></a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22774771"><i>Safe</i></a>, and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25777162/chapters/62606470"><i>Voices</i></a> (chapter 4, specifically), because PeniG is just all that and a bag of chips.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He found it while tidying up - which, for Aziraphale, meant moving things from one place to another, possibly relocating the dust while he was at it.  He hadn’t been <i>looking</i> for it, exactly, but… it was true that he’d been thinking about it, several times since the Apocalypse. </p>
<p>It was a feather, black, stiff with black demonic ichor.  Even though he’d received it hundreds of years ago, it still held the faintest trace of desert-spicy aura, the faintest hints of an aroma that Sandalphon thought to be ‘evil’, but to Aziraphale, was as cosy, comforting, and welcome as cinnamon apple pie.</p>
<p>He’d acquired it in Paris.  There had been an… <i>event</i>, that he’d been quick to take advantage of, luring the demon Crowley into his trap, making him his prisoner, keeping his wiliest adversary, Hell’s most accomplished shapeshifter and most imaginative agent, from joining the troops of his side.   …That’s what it said in his report, at least.  And it was <b>true!</b> …He just hadn’t specified <i>how</i> he had kept his adversary distracted for so long.</p>
<p>Aziraphale treasured the memory.  During that stolen time, he had learned some of the most important details about his beloved demon.  How much of his behaviour was an act.  How much stress he endured.  How best to nourish him. </p>
<p>Aziraphale stroked the feather and smiled at the memory of his demon’s lovely face so disconcerted when Aziraphale had chosen to take a few of Crowley’s words rather literally.  And caught in her own logic, she could hardly refuse.  His darling serpent…  It had been her idea to exchange feathers - as tokens to each other, as trophies to any inquirers.   It had worked well.  Even Uriel had been grudgingly impressed, when Aziraphale had presented the black-stained feather as evidence of his successful plot.  And Sandalphon - who had lost a tooth to Dagon, Lord of the Files and Master of Torments of Hell, who’s bullying arrival had allowed Crowley to escape - all he could do was snarl in humiliation. </p>
<p>Only once, in the five thousand years they’d been on Earth, had they had such an opportunity to get to know each other so intimately.  They’d agreed not to try it again.  The risks, should their respective sides find out, were simply unacceptable to both of them.  And so they had agreed.</p>
<p>But that was then, before the Apocalypse.  Before they had freed each other and scared their respective sides into leaving them alone.  This is <i>now.</i>  <i>Now</i> had been a journey of working through old traumas and long habits and learning new ways of relationship.  <i>Now</i> they were not adversaries but spouses.  <i>Now</i>, perhaps… the topic could be safely revisited?  </p>
<p>Aziraphale stroked the feather again and turned - ah! Yes.  He put the feather, ah, on the table, trusting that Crowley would understand his metaphor, and went back to tidying up. </p>
<p>A few hours later, he came back for a break and a cup of tea.  The feather had been joined by a white feather, stained with what had once been golden ichor but was long dried to a dark mahogany brown.  Both were wrapped snugly in what was once a white silk scarf, stained with the same dried ichor.   “That’s a yes, I take it,” he whispered.  </p>
<p>A glass of red wine clinked onto the table in front of him, set there by a slender hand in a black sleeve.  Aziraphale turned and smiled his most dazzling smile, watching in delight as his demon soaked in the glow of it.   Crowley reached up to twitch the fabric of Aziraphale’s bow tie with a sultry smile. </p>
<p>And after several failed attempts to pull it open, Aziraphale chuckled and caught his hands, “My dear, you’re shaking so.”</p>
<p>“Just… cold,” Crowley dodged, embarrassed.</p>
<p>Aziraphale chuckled again, knowingly.  “Well, then,” he said and his eyes twinkled, “Let’s go and get warm.”</p>
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